


build me up, buttercup

by PoemIsDead



Category: Markiplier (YouTube RPF)
Genre: Blow Jobs, Dark is a difficult sub, Dom/sub, Explicit Sexual Content, Food Kink, Ice cream is involved, Kinda, M/M, Masturbation, Messy, Praise Kink, Sub!Dark, Subspace, Wilford is a good dom, Wilford is hung like a horse because Mark said so, dom!wilford, i don't make the rules, some feels because I can't fucking help myself
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-06-30
Updated: 2018-06-30
Packaged: 2019-05-31 00:52:42
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,495
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15108326
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/PoemIsDead/pseuds/PoemIsDead
Summary: Dark hates messes. Wilford shows him how to enjoy them.





	build me up, buttercup

**Author's Note:**

> So this is my penance for my first attempt at Darkstache being pure angst. Have some straight up porn I wrote in a haze over the course of about 9 hours.
> 
> Watch me and Dark both try to swallow the idea of sub!Dark XD
> 
> Beta'd by the incredible [GalaxyGhosty](https://archiveofourown.org/users/GalaxyGhosty) (thank you so much, lovely!!)

Wilford smiled as he ran his fingers up under Dark's chin, forcing his face up to look at him. He really did look incredible like this, on his knees, staring up at him with those bitter eyes that even still held that glint of excitement. His shell snapping around him subtly as his monochrome cheeks darkened in small shades, and Wilford couldn’t help but run his other hand through his messy hair as he stood over him in the dark room. It really was a shame that his pride didn't let anyone else see him like this. He was like a piece of artwork. And artwork was supposed to be seen, to be enjoyed.

Well. Wilford supposed he'd just have to do the enjoying for now.

"Well, Darky," Wilford drawled, leaning back a bit to get a better look at him as he beamed down at the kneeling man. "Doesn't this look tasty?"

Dark's lip twitched, softly, that constant war of his no doubt raging within him as he struggled to find that elusive mindset. The one that let him relax. The one that let him bend instead of fight and gave him that release his body craved, despite the invading demon's wishes. Wilford watched as that expression shifted, emotions rolling over it so subtly as to be nonexistent to the untrained eye.

But Wilford knew Dark well.

"It's going to drip," Dark growled after a moment, his lips pressing into a thin line of disapproval.

Wilford chuckled, bringing the ice cream cone up to his lips to run his big tongue around the rim, eyes never leaving Dark's face as he savored the sweet treat. It was much simpler than he wanted, just a plain vanilla soft-serve in a sugar cone, but his usual assortment of marshmallow topping and sprinkles and whatever sweets he was feeling that day would only get in the way of his plans.

Dark's eyes followed the action as Wilford brought his tongue all the way around, knowing there would be a stripe of white across it now as he finished cleaning off the bits of melting cream.

"Don't you worry about it dripping, Darky-love," Wilford rolled, pausing to run his tongue over his vibrant mustache. "You just sit there and look pretty."

Dark's lip twitched again, but there was a flash of something in his eyes that made Wilford grin. He was so very good at controlling his expression, wasn't he? Well, he'd be sure to fix that before they were done.

"Now Darkling," the pink-hued man mused, voice dragging lazily as his fingers did the same over Dark's hard jawline. "What _am_ I go to do with you?"

The demon's jaw set beneath his fingers, lips pressed shut tightly, as his icy eyes stared up at the only man he'd ever let see him like this. Wilford could see the fight, the little battle he was struggling with, as the ice cream inevitably started to drip again in the warmth of his room, and Dark _tried_ his damndest to ignore it, as he'd been told.

He was adorable when he tried to behave.

Wilford didn't bother saying anything else. Just waited, strumming his fingers gently along the lines of Dark's jaw, his throat, across his lips, waiting. The point was control. To make Dark give it up. To let him relax as Wilford took over everything. To just enjoy as he shut off that over-working brain of his.

The ice cream was going to drive him insane. The threat of it dripping, sticky and sweet, over Wilford's fingers, when that could so easily be avoided, was needly at him, crawling under the demon's skin as he resisted the urge to fix the imperfection. Clean up the mess. But it wasn't his mess to clean, nor his decision whether it needed to be cleaned. And he needed to understand that before they could continue.

Wilford smiled as he watched Dark's face shift through those emotions, so faint no one else would see them. Annoyance. Irritation. Frustration. All emotions of something trying to be in control. But the moment he saw the first hint of those eyes turning up towards desperation, towards a silent plea to _just fix it please_ , as Wilford felt the cold liquid start to stream over his fingers, he knew they were headed in the right direction.

"Wilford," Dark murmured, low and tight. To anyone else, it would probably sound like a threat.

But Wilford heard the plea for what it was.

"Something wrong, Darky?" he mused in a sing-songy voice, tilting the cone in his grip at a jaunty angle and beaming down at the dark figure as he struggled to keep his hands behind his back like Wilford had told him.

"Wil . . . you're going to make a mess."

"Oh, but don't we always, Darkaboy?" Wilford chuckled in a bemused tone, and watched as the demon shifted in frustration. The ice cream was starting to trail a proper line of cream down his fingers, the first droplet reaching the bottom knuckle of his pinky and starting to crawling back down his hand.

Dark was silent, lips pressing together again, but he couldn't keep his eyes on Wilford's face, black orbs snapping back to the dripping cone as his face twitched subtly. His breathing had picked up, that war in him raging once more, hotter now. It would be so easy to simply release his hands from behind his back, with only Wilford's command keeping them there, and simply stand and fix the problem himself. Or just leave so he didn't have to see the mess Wil was making.

But he didn't. He sat and he bristled and he waited, and that made Wilford want to give him some form of relief.

"This bothers you, does it?" he asked with a sweet smile, twirling the cone just a bit as the fattening droplets trailed back and forth across his hand. "Too much of a mess for you, baby doll?"

Dark shifted, but didn't answer, eyes hot and fixed on Wilford's face now.

"Did you want to fix it?" Wilford asked with a big, crooked grin. He could see the way Dark's nostrils flared slightly at the question, knowing he knew damn well what Wilford was asking him, and still those lips pulled back in a twitching curl.

"Yes," he growled. And Wilford couldn't help but beam.

"Well, do help yourself," he sang, proffering the messy hand clutching the cone, and watching in delight as something flickered through Dark's eyes.

The demon only hesitated a moment, lips pursed together as he inevitably wished he could simply pull out his handkerchief and "fix" the mess that way. But Wilford had told him to keep his hands behind his back. Which left him one option.

Dark's mouth was pleasantly warm compared to the cold of the ice cream as he ran his tongue over Wilford's fingers, drumming over the ridges of his hand as he tried to catch as much as he could in a single swipe. His battle with his pride had lasted a little too long, leaving Wilford's hand coated in sticky melted cream, and it was quickly apparent Dark had his work cut out for him as he attempted to clean the mess.

Wilford drank in the sight with a giddy smile, watching the way Dark's tongue curled around his fingers, eyes slowly changing from irritated to focused, softening around the edges as he did his best to lap up the sweet liquid. He had to twist to get under his hand, his back arching prettily, showing off the strain in his thick arms as the suit pressed tighter, hands still clasped firmly together just above the curve of his ass.

Artwork.

Wilford really wished he'd let him take a picture.

The sensation of Dark's tongue pressing in between his fingers, prying them apart so he could catch escaped droplets, had little shots of pleasure rushing into his gut, starting to pool there as his dick finally started to take interest. Dark on his knees was artwork. Dark using his tongue like some expensive whore was just sinfully delicious.

Once he had his hand acceptably clean once more, Dark turned his attention to the ice cream itself, his tongue curling around the lips of the cone to start clearing out the melting bits that were threatening to drip once more, before Wilford pulled the cone out of his reach.

"Ah-ah, Darky," he chided, watching the way Dark's lips just slightly followed the treat as it was taken away, eyes fixing on the pretty line of his neck as he swallowed and the darker shade starting to seep into his cheeks. "I didn't say you could have that."

"It's-" Dark started, his voice a little raw as he began to protest, before his mouth snapped shut, a hint of a glaze running over his eyes. Wilford smiled with pride as he watched him start to slip into that lovely headspace.

"Good boy," Wilford praised, hand coming out to run through his soft hair, loving the sensation of the silky strands between his fingers. He brought the ice cream back up to his lips, taking a languid swipe of the sweet treat and humming in pleasure before his eyes trailed back to the demon on his knees before him. "You can unbutton my shirt."

The way Dark's breath stuttered, so quietly, his eyes tightening even as the haze got thicker, was more delicious than the treat in his hand could ever be.

Dark faltered for a moment as he released his grip behind him, starting to lift his hands up, only to hesitate as that battle raged within him. His pride was such an iron thing, so stubborn and hard, determined not to bend for _anything_.

But Wilford, well . . . Wilford was a special case. And as much as he loathed not being able to share this beautiful thing with anyone else, he wouldn't trade what he had with the demon for anything.

Well, maybe for one thing.

But that would never happen.

You couldn't turn back time.

"That's it, gorgeous," Wilford crooned, smiling down at him as he took another taste of his ice cream, smearing it across his tongue in a lazy motion as he watched Dark's black eyes flash up to him. The demon hesitated only another moment before turning his gaze back to Wilford's yellow button-up, fingers coming up to tug it from his waistband before starting work on the buttons.

His fingers were methodical. Meticulous. Each movement precise and elegant as he slipped button after button through the little slits in the fabric. Wilford watched each one, eyes flickering back and forth between the shirt and Dark's face, fixed in a hazy kind of concentration, and Wilford made soft noises of encouragement, murmurs of praise, as he worked his way up the line.

He really was beautiful.

When Dark had finished, he turned to the suspenders, slipping nimble fingers beneath them as he started to tug them off, only to be stopped by Wilford's chiding.

"Ah-ah-ah," he sang, waggling the ice cream cone at him as his other hand buried itself back in his hair, tugging his face up to look at him gently. "Hands behind your back again, sugarplum."

Dark made a face, but released the bands, hands falling to his sides before he seemed to remember what Wil had said, and hesitating a moment before clasping them behind his back once more. Wilford rewarded him with a few strokes of his fingers in his hair.

Getting the suspenders and shirt off while holding the ice cream wasn't the easiest thing in the world, but Wil was surprisingly experienced with taking off his clothes one-handed, and was tossing the yellow shirt aside before Dark even had a chance to get antsy again.

"Now Darky," he said, twirling his fingers into those messy black locks and smiling crookedly down at the man. He was holding the cone precariously over himself, a few inches away from his lips, but tilted enough to set Dark on edge once more. "You seem to have a problem with messes."

Dark's eyes flashed up, a hint of a challenge and something else in those inky depths as he stared up at him. Wilford only smiled as he tilted the cone that much further.

"So what are you going to do if _I'm_ a mess?"

The laws of chaos seemed to absolutely adore him, as a single fat drop of melted ice cream rolled off the cone and dripped onto his bare stomach.

Dark's eyes snapped to the drop, fixing on the white streak it made down the smooth expanse of tan skin, and Wilford's dick couldn't help but twitch in excitement as Dark's tongue darted out to run across his bottom lip.

"Go ahead, gorgeous. Clean me up."

Dark's eyes seemed to droop at the command, hazing over as he leaned forward without any more thought and running his tongue across the soft ridges of Wilford's stomach. He caught the liquid in one wide swipe, his mouth opening wide to accommodate the wet appendage, and Wilford shivered as he ran over the same place a second time, as if making sure he'd gotten it all. Or maybe he just liked the taste.

"That's it, baby," Wil encouraged, breath picking up a little as he moved the cone to drip again, this time over the jut of his hip above his slacks.

Dark moved without hesitation, tongue darting out to carve a line through the mess of the fatter drop, before he flattened it and cleaned away the mess. The pressure of his tongue made Wilford want to pull him closer, press him more firmly into that little hollow, and have him lather the sensitive skin in attention from that wicked tongue.

The idea of Dark latching his lips around a bit of that skin and sucking hard enough to leave those pretty blooming marks had his heavy shaft jerking hard enough to be seen through his pants.

Wilford didn't give Dark a chance to lean back up, moving to make another over his belly button, and one a little higher to one side, across the bottom of his ribcage. Dark followed the mess dutifully, lapping up each new drop with a growing eagerness that had Wil's toes curling in his loafers, and when he shifted to get another high one, his hair falling beautifully away from his face, Wil could see that pretty glaze in his eyes that told him they'd gotten past that silly pride.

The pink-haired man swallowed before he turned the cone to drip over his stomach again, lower this time, making a mess of the sparse hair of his happy trail, and he could actually see the way Dark's cheeks flushed, a darker gray rather than the pretty red he was sure it would be.

And then Dark made a noise. It was quiet, so very, very quiet, easily mistaken for some ambient sound or a trick of the ears. But Wilford knew it was him. A soft whine, slipped past his lips as he sank deeper and deeper into that delicious realm in his mind where he didn't have to worry about being intimidating or imposing or anything of the sort. Wilford let his own groan answer, bodied and thick, as Dark leaned forward to twine his tongue through the dusting of hair.

"I think we're in danger of making a mess of those pants, aren't we darling?" Wilford asked, waggling his eyes brows as Dark looked up at him, tongue pressing across the trail with hooded eyes. He nodded absently, like he wasn't completely aware of the action, and leaned back, licking his reddened lips and breathing just a little harder through his nose as he looked down at the bindings on Wil's slacks, and the obvious bulge tenting them just below.

He seemed to consider them for a moment, eyes mildly vacant, before he turned to look back up at him, a question in his eyes.

"Can I . . ." he started in a low rumble, voice raw but still so deliciously powerful, and Wilford felt the tug to give him whatever he wanted. But he fought it, offering the man a bemused smile as he shook his head.

"You keep those hands behind your back for me, okay Darkling?" he drawled, popping his hips forward with a messy smile as he watched Dark's lips part. "I know you can do it without them."

Dark leaned back, panting softly for a moment, lip tugging briefly between his teeth in what Wilford believed _had_ to be the most lovely picture he'd ever seen. But then he threw his head back in a sharp, practiced gesture, to shake messy hair from his eyes, and the pink-haired man got a glimpse of the sharp tent in those suit pants, and he honestly couldn't say which made his dick throb more.

Dark's mouth, as Wilford had learned to his delight, was incredibly skilled. And the picture of Dark digging into the edge of his pants, tugging the button undone with a desperate, but strangely graceful, movement, was worth denying him his hands for the memory. His back was arched again as he caught his zipper, body making such pretty lines under that suit as he worked the little metal piece down, and Wil could feel his breath washing over his underwear.

He took pity on him then. Or perhaps it was impatience that made him reach down to tug his pants out of the way, shimming them down with his dark underwear, and finally letting his near-full-mast erection fly free.

Dark's eyes locked on the heavy shaft, and there was nothing but hunger in those formerly icy eyes now. He was panting slowly through his nose, lips slightly parted and blush high on his cheeks as he just stared at it. Waiting. Wanting. And it twitched enticingly before his eyes as Wilford took in that masterpiece of a picture.

So many wonderful pictures he could have, if only Dark would let him.

Dark was drawn out of his mindless staring as Wilford tilted the cone once more, a few drops that had been teetering on the edge spilling over to splatter over his stomach, his happy trail, and into the base of his shaft, making him tense a little at the cold. Dark's eyes snapped to follow them, and this time the little noise he made might have been picked up by the average person, as his eyes darkened and his breath picked up.

He didn't wait to be told. Once more he leaned forward to lap up the mess, starting just above his cock and working his way up over his stomach, obviously saving the best for dessert. Once his stomach was clean, he trailed back down it with his lips, leaving messy kisses along the skin that sent lines of pleasure straight to his very interested dick and dragging them down until he met the heavy shaft.

He took his damn time, too. Savored every drop as he worked his way slowly over the base of his shaft, mouthing across the sensitive skin and drawing sounds of pleasure and approval from the man standing over him. Wilford closed his eyes, only for a moment, to savor the feeling himself, before he opened them to find Dark's mouth pressed into the dark hair around his groin, eyes glazed over and tongue working behind his lips as it twisted over the last of the mess.

When he was clean, and Wil didn't move to add another drop, Dark turned his lips back to the base of his shaft, latched them around it for a moment, before murmuring against it, lust-filled eyes staring up at the pink-haired man.

"Wil," he ground out against the delicate skin, and it jumped against his lips. He didn't even need to say the "please," it was so clear to him in his tone. He wanted more. He was immersed. And Wil had done just about enough waiting, thank you.

"Go ahead," Wilford groaned back, turning the ice cream sharply in his hand to drop a long line of messy cream along his shaft, not even caring about the cold as Dark _groaned_ against him, before tossing the sweet treat into the trash unceremoniously. It had done its job. His voice was tight, but giddy as he added, "You can touch yourself."

Dark's hands released from behind him almost immediately, moving to tug at his own slacks as his mouth worked hungrily over Wilford's thick length, running lips and tongue over it greedily. He searched for every drop of sweetness that had dripped along the shaft, dragging low sounds of pleasure from Wilford as he created that sweet, sweet friction.

He hadn't even gotten it all before he was turning to take the head in his mouth, impatient, his tongue sliding along the slick line of precum starting to ooze along the slit, making Wilford throw his head back with a loud groan. His mouth closed around the bulbous end, suckling at it, before he started to move, taking more and more as he bobbed his head. Missed lines of cream were smeared across his mouth as his lips slid over his length, and his hair had fallen in a complete disarray over his lust-filled expression.

He was the picture of a mess now, for all his talk of hating it. And Wilford wanted to kiss that mess silly.

He choked after a moment, trying to take too much at once, and pulled back a little, tears pricking at the corners of his eyes. His cheeks darkened again, a blush tinged with embarrassment this time, Wilford knew, and the pink-haired man didn't hesitate to reach out with assurances.

"Slow, Darky, slow," he hummed, petting his hair before running his fingers under his jaw. "You're doing _great_."

Dark paused, catching his breath for a moment, eyes closing briefly as he made a small sound around the mouthful he still had. It took Wilford longer than he cared to admit to recognize the strain in his shoulder, the way the suit was wrinkling and smoothing rhythmically, and the subtle shudder that ran down his spine.

Oh, yes. He had told him he could touch himself, hadn't he?

"Oh, let me see, sweetheart," he cooed with a happy smile, stroking along his jaw before burying his hand in his hair again, and giving him a little encouraging tug.

Dark lingered, tongue writhing along the underside of his shaft, lips clinging to him, as if loathed to release his mouthful. But another gentle but firm tug forced him to pull off with a little _pop_ , and Dark was left panting, mouth open, as Wilford bent his head back and out of the way of the lovely sight before him.

Dark hadn't bothered to push his pants properly out of the way. He'd simply opened the fly, giving him just enough room to free his obviously aching shaft and get a hand around it. He was going to make a mess, was _already_ a mess, and didn't even care. Wilford wanted to purr with glee at that.

One of Dark's big hands was wrapped around the base, just holding his leaking shaft as he arched his back into Wilford's grip, eyes closed as he struggled to even his breathing.

"Now, don't stop on my behalf," Wilford admonished cheekily, his own dick throbbing as it longed to have that warm mouth back around it. But he _had_ to see this first. "Keep going, darling."

Dark hesitated, still panting, and he could see the strain in his neck as he fought whatever battle was going on in his mind.

"Come on now, stroke that lovely cock for me."

Dark shuddered, his breath hitching in his throat, exhaling in a rattling, hushed groan, before his hand stroked slowly over his length. Any other time, that line might have earned him a sharp look and a biting word. But Dark was deep into it now, his mind relaxing into that lovely, _bendable_ state as he let Wilford take control. As he let Wilford _take care_ of him.

He seemed unsure at first, working slowly, jerking slightly as his fingers squeezed around his crown. But after a few moments, the pleasure seemed to wash away any last inhibitions, and Wilford watched as Dark slowly unraveled beneath him.

His hand had loosened its grip in his hair, and Dark's head slowly started to tilt to the side, as if he was too distracted to even keep it up. His lips were parted, eyes squeezed shut in concentration and pleasure, and each breath was slowly turning into a low, rumbling groan. Wil's eyes traced the pattern of a vein on his hand, passing over his straining length, and following it up to where it disappeared into his suit sleeve. Next time, he'd make him undress first. He wanted to trace that line all the way up.

"Aren't you _stunning_ ," Wilford gushed after a few moments, his own eyes glazing over with a lusty haze as he watched Dark's hand slick over his shaft. Dark's eyes slid open, still heavy-lidded and clouded, and Wilford groaned at the sight, of that beautiful face, so open and honest for once, staring up at him with that deep, all-consuming _need_.

Wilford really wished his eyes could just take pictures.

Dark whined, honest-to-god _whined_ , even as soft as it was, and Wilford's knees wanted to buckle beneath him. Dark never made much noise, his pride making him bite his tongue, and each sound was like a precious gift. And he was making _so many_ tonight. And Wil just wanted to reward him for it.

"What do you want, Dark?" he asked, his voice a little breathless as he ran his fingers through the demon's hair. "Tell ol' Wilford what you want, what you need, and I'll give it to you."

And Dark looked up at him with those beautiful black eyes, shining lips parted as he panted, before he swallowed and waged that little war in his mind again. The one that wouldn't let him _ask_ for what he needed. The one that was too damn concerned with how he looked, how he sounded, how he was perceived, to ever let him open that far.

So he did the next best thing. He let his body ask for him, mouth falling open around heavy breaths, tongue spreading out, begging for something on it.

Wilford was pretty sure he would have cum right then if he'd any form of physical stimulation.

"Oh, what a good boy, to ask for it," Wil breathed, his usual rolling drawl coming out strained and excited as he carded his fingers through his hair. "How can I say no?"

He released his grip on Dark's head, letting it fall back as he continued to stroke, and moved one of his hands to grip at the base of his cock, holding it steady for him, and also ready to grip a little tight if he got too close, too quick.

He wanted to drive Dark over the edge before he came.

Or maybe when he came. He'd take that too.

Dark didn't waste any time. His own free hand came up to grip Wilford's impressive girth, guiding him to press against his lips, pressing them together firmly to make a tight ring before sliding over his aching flesh. Wil groaned at the sensation, little murmured encouragements slipping past his lips as he let his own head fall back for a moment, just to enjoy the sensation.

Dark impaled himself slowly, sinking his lips down around his length until he could remove his hand. He didn't even manage to the halfway point before he had to stop, taking slow, soothing breaths, eyes flickering up to look at Wilford's adoring eyes before closing them again to concentrate on his task. He pressed closer slowly, swallowing rhythmically as Wil's crown nudged against the back of his throat. He took his time, letting his body adjust to the intrusion as his throat spasmed gently, struggling to accommodate the invading flesh.

Wil's hips and thighs strained with the desire to thrust, to drive deeper into that lovely, quivering heat. But he stayed where he was, letting Dark work his way deeper and deeper at an agonizing pace.

But god was it worth it as he tilted his face up, opening his throat to take more, and Wilford moaned, knees going weak at the incredible feeling of that mouth managing to take _so much_.

He couldn't take it all the way. But he buried it deep enough to make Wil's eyes roll back before he drew back slowly, gagging a little before catching a proper rhythm. He moved slowly over his length, sucking and licking, driving deep for a moment only to pull back and swirl his tongue around his head.

His arm was flexing as he worked, showing where he was still stroking himself, slowly picking up in intensity as he started to get messier with his work. His eyes were watering from the wilful abuse he was putting his throat through, his lips were wet and a mess of saliva and precum, and he'd started moaning quietly at one point and just never stopped. And Wilford knew if Dark didn't cum soon, he was going to beat him to it from this goddamn perfect display.

But his wish was granted. Another moment of wet noises mixed in with both of their ragged sounds of pleasure, and Dark was burying himself as deep as his throat would allow, those warm, wet walls spasming around his length as Dark let out a broken, choked noise and tensed beneath him. Wilford watched, enraptured, as Dark's body arched and shuddered, tensing hard enough that he could see all the delicious lines through his suit, before he was crumbling, moaning in broken, shaking breaths as he jerked around him.

Wilford hardly had time to appreciate the masterpiece before he was following him, spilling his thick seed down Dark's throat, earning him a small, choked sound before those muscles were constricting around him again as he swallowed. Wilford's mouth fell into full, nonsensical rambling praise that even he wasn't really sure the full meaning of as his hips jerked a few times, choking the exhausted creature under him, before pulling back and shooting the last few strands across his tongue and lips.

Wilford took a moment to ride through the last of his high, both of them breathing hard in low, ragged breaths, before he let his weak knees buckle, and tumbled rather gracefully to kneel in front of Dark. His arms came out to wrap around the demon's shoulders, tugging him into a warm, tired embrace as they both struggled to put themselves back together.

This was always his favorite part, as bittersweet as it was. It was the only time Dark would let him hold him like this, without his very being radiating annoyance at the unwanted contact. A fleeting moment between lust and pride, that allowed for the affection, as Wilford nuzzled into the panting demon's neck.

"You did good, Darky," he crooned to him, his lips feeling sluggish as he pressed them up under the demon's jaw. "So good, thank you."

Dark needed this. It was an important part of any scene like this. But he'd never admit that. It was always under the pretense that he was simply too worn out from his orgasm to bother putting up a fight.

But Wilford knew better.

The pink-haired man pressed closer, not caring about the mess they both were right now, just wanting to feel him against him. His fingers were wrinkling his suit, clinging to him like a lifeline as he slowly rebuilt himself, and he shook, ever so slightly, as he pressed his lips into the demon's neck.

"I love you, Dark."

The words were murmured so quietly into his throat as to be easily missed, hidden amongst their heavy breaths. He wouldn't say it too loud. Wouldn't put that weight on him. Dark had his reputation to keep up, after all. But he would still say it, damn it, because it was true.

Wilford leaned into his sturdy form, nuzzling close, knowing his mustache probably tickled as he just took in the unique scent that was Dark, letting it fill his mind as he coasted through his post-orgasmic bliss and let himself enjoy this rare moment of affection.

And slowly, as if not to startle him with his movement, Dark shifted to bring his arms up, and wrap them around Wilford in turn, holding him in a loose, hardly there grip, the ghost of a touch lighting up the pink-haired man in ways the demon would never understand.

And Wilford wished for the thousandth time that he was allowed to take pictures.

**Author's Note:**

> This is my first time writing from Wilford's perspective, and my first time writing him in more of his classic character, and I can say with confidence that I am not confident in my Wilford. But hopefully the porn made up for it! :D


End file.
